


How do I hate you, let me count the ways

by blossomdreams



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of the past, this game gave me too many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blossomdreams/pseuds/blossomdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many things in Trevor's life he hates, but not as much as Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How do I hate you, let me count the ways

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work in this fandom and I can't believe that a video game has given me so many feels, but it has! I love them all so much, but my favorite is Trevor. I don't know what it is about him that makes me love him so very much! I also love watching him argue with Michael and all the jokes about them being together. This came into my head and wouldn't get out. 
> 
> Enjoy!

To list the things Trevor hated would take a month, maybe longer, but some things would always hit a nerve. He hated when someone made fun of his accent. It’s not even that fuckin’ recognizable. The next thing he hated was mother jokes. If penetration didn’t happen, then you can’t fuck your mother. He hated when entitled assholes didn’t appreciate their wives. Trevor would like to deal with them personally, but the law always found a way to make it a big deal.

However, one of the things he truly hated was Michael Townley or De Santa, or whatever the fuck he called himself these days. Trevor hated how he could talk his way out of anything. He hated his hypocritical, holier than thou attitude. He hated that day nine years ago when everything went to shit and he thought Michael died. He hated the way he went on a three-day bender after it because he couldn’t handle another person leaving him. He actually grieved over that fat asshole for three fucking days, three of the longest days of his life.

He hated when the meth wasn’t strong enough and he remembered stupid times in cheap motels when they were young, drunk, and lonely. He hated the way Michael would sneak into his bed on nights when their cheap blankets couldn’t keep out the cold. He hated when he did the same thing. One of the few things Trevor hated the most was the helpless look in Michael’s eyes after a bad heist.

Trevor hated that he could see himself and all his failures in them. He hated those same eyes that bore into his own when they fucked, but looked away from him the next morning. He hated the way Michael held a gun with the same hands that gripped his back at night. The morning after they always blamed it on something, booze or a new drug Trevor got, but they knew that no amount of booze, drugs, or women could bury the truth.

A truth Trevor saw every time Michael was under him.

Trevor hated the pull they have towards each other. An attraction that kept him from truly getting rid of Michael and every fucking memory associated with him. Michael would always be in his head, in the duffel bag that held mementos of their past, in the first thing they jacked that he kept deep down in the corner of his dresser. He hated that no matter what he did, he couldn’t get rid of the pull towards Michael like a bunch of fucked up magnets. The same pull that found Michael again nine years after his “death”.

Trevor hated that stupid jewelry heist Michael pulled. His fat ass was as sloppy as ever, anyone that knew Michael could tell he planned it. He hated the annoying flare of hope, if he could call it that, that Michael wasn’t dead. He had a lot to answer to, but at least he wasn’t dead. He hated how it wouldn’t leave his head on the ride to his house. Trevor hated when he goes to his fucking house to see Michael still trying to be the family man and failing in the way Trevor knew he would.

He hated the day Michael told him he was going to marry Amanda. The way Michael explained to him that what they did in those cheap motel rooms were just them fucking around and there was nothing serious about it. Trevor hated the sickening twist to his stomach to the news. He knew he shouldn’t have got his hopes up, but Michael acknowledged him. He knew what he could do and never failed to tell him about it after a successful heist. Their time spent together and their future plans stopped because Michael couldn’t say no to a stripper.

He didn’t hate the way he punched Michael with as much strength he could mustered or the fight that followed. It wasn’t long before Trevor pinned him to the floor and Michael pushed his hips up trying to knock him off when they stopped fighting and started fucking in the middle of the floor of that dirty motel room. Michael ends up hoarse by the end of it and Trevor does enough drugs to push all the stupid annoying feelings back where they should stay.

However, it’s never long before his mind traveled back to Michael and all the stupid things he does. The stupid way his eyes light up when he watched an old movie. The stupid smile he gets when he teaches Franklin the right way to shoot a gun. The stupid way he’ll bitch about Amanda about whatever they’re fighting about. He hated the knot that forms in the pit of his stomach when Michael goes back to her. He hated that he’s jealous of a stripper with fake tits.

He hated that no matter how many threats he makes, how many arguments they have, or times they point their guns at each other, it doesn’t go any further than that. It won’t go any further than that. He hated to admit that Michael would be the longest relationship he will ever have with someone. The stupid, fat fuck with his smile and eyes and the way he assures everyone that everything is going to be alright. He doesn’t even look that good firing a gun even if his aim is good.

Trevor hated the fucking tattoo on his arm. It doesn’t help him when he wants to forget Michael, but then again he accepted that nothing would ever work in his favor a long time ago. If things truly went his way that fucking heist wouldn’t have went to shit. Michael wouldn’t have met Amanda or made that fucking deal. Trevor wouldn’t have spent nine years holding on to memories of his “dead” best friend.

Trevor hated that the drug he takes or booze he drinks, won’t get Michael out of his head for long. He knows they will find each other again, until one of them ended up in the ground for good. Then whatever happens next when they go to Hell or if someone takes pity on them and they’re reincarnated, they would be drawn to each other again to do the same song and dance they knew so well.

He hated that he doesn’t find a problem with that.


End file.
